CHAPTER fourteen
An Echo of Ones I Couldn’t Save
Chicago, Illinois
The show is, once again, flawless.
I swear, they get better every night, especially Elias.
It is like watching someone become something else entirely when he steps on stage. The controlled, reserved man from the bus is replaced with something exposed and powerful, a presence so commanding it is impossible to look away.
The words from No Way Out ring through the space:
Scars like embers burn my skin,
A brand of guilt I’ll never shed
Your names still lingers in the ash,
A ghost I cannot lay to rest
Dark memories seared into flesh,
A canvas painted with my shame
Every mark, a silent scream,
An echo of the ones I couldn’t save
Every word feels like a blade, cutting straight through me. Elias carries the weight of a world I can’t begin to understand, each lyric a wound he bears in silence.
By the time the band launches into their final song, the crowd is a pulsing sea of energy—arms raised, bodies swaying, voices shouting every lyric like gospel. The air inside the venue buzzes with electricity, sweat, and the low hum of stage lights.
Sasha leans toward me, her voice raised just enough to cut through the noise.
“Go grab some content.”
I glance at her, mid-swipe on a fan’s card.
“You sure?” I ask, handing the customer their shirt and offering a quick smile.
She waves me off with a grin. “Yes, go! I’ve got it covered.”
Her tone leaves no room for debate, and her confidence in handling the merch table is reassuring. She’s been a total lifesaver tonight—jumping in without hesitation when the line never seemed to end.
“Okay, okay,” I say, already unclipping my phone from the stand and slinging my camera strap over my shoulder.
As I weave through the crowd, the beat thundering, I shoot her one last grateful look over my shoulder. She flashes a thumbs up, already turning to greet the next fan with her gorgeous smile.
I make my way closer to the stage, the lights flashing across Elias’s silhouette as he sings like the whole world is watching. And just like that, I’m back in my element, capturing moments as they burn, frame by frame.
I try to claim some space, but tonight’s crowd is especially big and rowdy. As I start snapping, a voice cuts through the music beside me.
“Hey, photographer!”
I barely glance over, raising my brows in silent acknowledgment.
The man vying for my attention sports a sharp buzz cut, his closely cropped hair doing little to soften the hardened angles of his face.
He looks to be in his early thirties, his features worn just enough to hint at a life that hasn’t always been kind.
“You’re gorgeous. You wanna grab a drink after the set?”
I sigh internally. Here we go. The guy is clearly drunk, his eyes glassy, his speech slightly slurred.
“No, thank you,” I say, keeping my tone polite but firm. “I’m working.”
I turn my focus back to my camera. Then, a not so gentle hand on my arm.
“Come on, baby, just one drink.”
His fingers tighten, pulling me slightly as he tries to tug my camera away from my face. The irritation flares instantly, my expression going icy.
“I said I’m good,” I snap, my voice cold as steel.
Before I can pull away, the music stops. Everything stops.
The next thing I know, a pair of strong hands grab the guy, yanking him back so hard his feet practically leave the ground.
The crowd splits apart like a wave. Shouts ring out: Grady, Cody, Jasper are all screaming the same name.
“Elias!”
My stomach drops.
Because there, standing in the center of it all, is Elias, mid-show, mid-song, with his hands clenched around this guy’s collar, dragging him with little effort toward the exit.
I break from the crowd, pushing past people, my pulse hammering as I catch up to them. Elias’s grip is like iron, the guy struggling, feet sliding against the floor, but he barely budges.
I can hear him breathing hard, his muscles rigid with fury.
“Elias! Stop! I’m fine!” I yell.
He doesn’t stop. Not until he reaches the door where he throws the guy outside like a ragdoll, sending him crashing into the dirt.
“Don’t fucking touch her again.”
The door slams shut behind him, and then his hands are on me.
His fingers wrap around my arms, his amber eyes searing into mine, wide with concern.
“Are you hurt?” His voice is low and frantic.
“No, I’m fine,” I say, shaking my head. “You didn’t have to do that. He was just being a drunk asshole.”
The rest of the band has caught up, crowding around us.
“What was that, man?” Grady pushes Elias, eyes blazing. He glares at him, jaw tightening.
Before Elias can slip behind the stage, Traeger suddenly blocks his path, grabbing a fistful of the front of his shirt and yanking him to a stop.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Traeger snarls, his face so close their foreheads nearly brush.
Elias doesn’t flinch. He lifts his hands, palms out, not in surrender, but in warning.
“Traeger,” he says, voice low and lethal. “I’m giving you two seconds to take your hands off me.”
His amber eyes lock onto Traeger’s, unblinking, sharp as broken glass. There’s not a hint of fear in them, only a coiled patience that looks like it’s about to snap.
Something flickers across Traeger’s expression. Self-preservation, maybe. Or the realization that Elias doesn’t bluff.
With a muttered curse, Traeger releases his grip, fabric crumpling as it falls back against Elias’s chest. But he doesn’t step away.
“Don’t forget that this is my fucking tour, you piece of shit,” he spits. “You pull something like that again and you’re done. You hear me? Done.”
They stare each other down, a silent war crackling between them.
Then Elias is the one who moves. Shouldering past him, he shoves open the backstage door, letting it slam against the wall as he disappears through it without a backward glance.
Meanwhile, Cody, ever the showman, jumps back on stage and grabs the mic, announcing, “Sorry about the disturbance, but I guess that’s rock and roll!”
The crowd roars, and just like that, the moment is swept away in the chaos.
I push past the others, following Elias into the back of the venue.
When I finally catch up, I grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn toward me.
“What was that, Elias?”
His expression is hard, his jaw ticking with tension.
“I don’t know,” he admits, voice strained, like he hates saying it out loud. “I just saw his hands on you and I reacted.”
I search his face, his eyes still burning with concern and rage.
He steps closer to me and his hands land on my cheeks, I cover them with my own on instinct, “I promise I’m okay. I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself.”
He studies me for a long moment, thumbs brushing my cheeks, his breathing still heavy. His gaze shifts like he wants to say more, but doesn’t.
Then, without another word, he lets go and disappears into the night.
We pile onto the bus, the weight of the night hanging over us like a heavy, invisible fog. The earlier adrenaline has drained from my body, leaving behind the throb of sore feet and a gnawing pit of unease in my stomach. The silence feels unnatural, almost louder than the usual chaos.
Elias still hasn’t reappeared since storming off after the show. And now, scanning the dimly lit bus, I realize with a sinking heart that he’s still not here.
I spot Cody hunched in one of the booth seats, a stark contrast to his typical easygoing energy. His foot bounces restlessly against the floor.
“Where’s Elias?” I ask, walking closer.
Cody doesn’t immediately answer. His eyes stay locked on some invisible point on the table in front of him, shoulders tense.
“I don’t know. I tried calling him... he’s not picking up.” His voice is tight, threaded with worry.
I chew at my bottom lip, weighing my options. My fingers twitch toward my phone.
“Should I try?” I ask hesitantly.
He finally lifts his gaze to mine, the worry naked across his face. “If you want. I checked his location earlier, but… he turned it off.”
The words drop between us like a stone, and my stomach knots.
I nod, my hands already moving. Fishing my phone from my back pocket, I navigate to our group chat, usually a wild collage of memes, inside jokes, and Cody’s endless TikTok spam. Tonight, the thread feels eerily still.
I tap on Elias’s number and hesitate, thumb hovering over the call button, my heart thudding a little faster. Then I press it.
The line rings once. Twice.
Three times.
Straight to voicemail.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat and quickly switch tactics, opening a text message instead. My thumbs hover, then I type:
Me: Hey. Just checking in. Are you okay?
I hit send and watch the screen like it might somehow conjure him back to me.
Nothing.
No typing bubbles.
No read receipt.
Minutes drag by, slow and sharp. The dull hum of the bus’s air system fills the silence.
I glance up at Cody, who’s clearly been watching me. He looks for some clue in my expression, but I can only offer a small, helpless shake of my head.
“He’s not answering me either,” I say, my voice thinner than I mean it to be. “Is this… normal?”
He dips his head, running a hand through his hair.
“Not recently, no.”
The way he says it—not recently—claws at the back of my mind. What does that mean exactly? What had Elias been like before?
I nibble anxiously at the edge of my nail, a nervous habit I thought I’d grown out of.
“Maybe he just needed to blow off steam,” I say, trying to inject some hope into my tone for both our sakes. “Maybe he just needed some air. He’ll be back.”
But even as the words leave my mouth, they feel fragile, like they might shatter if I breathe too hard. He nods, wanting to believe that’s true. I rub his shoulder before pacing to the back room.
I throw my phone onto the bed and step into the shower to wash off the night and go through the rest of my night routine.
I click my screen one last time hopping into a bunk, not really expecting anything. But then, I see it. My chest unwinds slightly.
Elias: I’m good. I got a hotel for the night.
I stare at the message for a second before typing back.
Me: Gotcha.
I pause, then added:
Me: Glad to hear that you are okay.
Elias: Thank you for checking.
Me: Of course. I’m here if you want to talk.
I wait. No response.
But that is okay. Now, at least, I know he is safe. But I can’t help but wonder what truly had set him off.
Before I drift off to sleep, I shoot Cody a text letting him know that Elias is at a hotel, and he just thumbs up the message.